


follow the desire

by Lizzen



Category: Supernatural, Wayward Sisters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Doppelganger, Dubious Consent, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Claire finds the creature who killed Kaia with the full intent to kill it.The creature has other ideas.





	follow the desire

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is definitely indulgent  
> many thanks, as always, to th_esaurus

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*  
*

“I dreamed of you,” the enemy says with a woman’s voice, the staff at its side. “Claire,” it says as if saying the name for the first time, as if saying a new prayer.

There’s an arsenal on her, but no staff. So, Claire raises her shotgun, lifts it high. Surely a bullet to the brain will end it. “That’s me,” she replies. 

“What scars will I add to your body today?” it says with a sort of purr. “A slice of my knife against the ghoul bite, my fist against where the vampires roughed you up?”

Claire freezes, uncertain. Lost in the confusion of how this creature would _know_ \--

“Or a kiss--,” it says, pulling off its hood and revealing a face, “--on your forehead?”

She can’t help herself: “Kaia” leaves her lips before she can stop it. “What--”

The enemy, the _thing_ that Claire’s been determined to kill for over a year gives her such a toothy grin. “Am I?,” and that’s when she moves.

At such close range, Claire loses the shot, so she drops the gun to fight with her knife and fist. An awkward thing to do when your opponent is bearing a staff, but Claire’s trained daily ever since-- ever since that day. 

There’s a blow to her head, and Claire gives as good as she gets. Violence is the only language she really knows, really understands. When blood covers her face -- she unsure whose it is -- she really comes alive.

Fighting the demon with Kaia’s face is complicated, but she knows enough of the Winchesters’ stories to know this is part of being a hunter. The face of the ones you love often come back to haunt you, and in the worst of ways. 

Fighting the demon with Kaia’s face is complicated because, despite the rage in her heart, the enemy has an incredible grace about her in battle. Something like a dancer as she moves; the pacing of her feet and the curve of her arm. As if this is a sumptuous ballet rather than a fight to the death. Claire catches herself watching rather than figuring out her next three moves.

And that’s how the enemy gets her backed into a corner.

“Don’t you want to know what I dream about?” the enemy says, pushing Claire rather forcefully against a wall. “Every night since I learned what I was?”

Claire hums and shakes her head. She knows something horrible will come out of the enemy’s mouth; something destabilizing. Which is bad enough, this close to Kaia’s (not Kaia’s) body. The shimmer in her skin, the softness in her face, the sparkle in her eyes. An image that, admittedly, Claire dreams about herself. 

“I dreamed--,” the enemy says, pushing in closer, “--about this.” And her lips press against Claire’s; not hard and fierce, but gentle and chaste like the first kiss of two hopefuls. 

It’s a shock like nothing she’s experienced before and her body stills, as if paralyzed. Without intent, her mouth open slightly and the enemy takes it as an opportunity. Slides her tongue between lips, slashing it against Claire’s teeth. 

Her heart races so fast, she’s breathless in half a moment.

“No,” Claire says against the sweetness of those lips, but neither of them pay the word any mind. The enemy, _Kaia_ , kisses in further, a filthy kind of kiss now that they’ve tread the waters a little. The kind of kiss that makes Claire lose her grip on her knife; the metal clatters against the concrete beneath them and then stills as they gasp and grasp at each other. 

She doesn’t know quite how it happens, but one hand is tangled in that beautiful brown hair and the other is gripping her neck tight as if to strangle her. Kaia’s response is to take a full handful of Claire’s curls and tug as her other hand squeezes hard at Claire’s breast. Overwhelmed, Claire presses her legs together tight and sees stars in the periphery of her vision. 

They kiss and kiss until Claire’s mouth moves to an open stretch of Kaia’s neck, and she sucks hard on the skin till the enemy keens. She lingers there, desperate to make a mark that will linger, and Kaia’s grip at her breast lightens. When she hears a low moan, Claire has to push, push her away. 

“No, you killed her,” she says, and unsteadily moves into a stance to continue the fight. “No.”

And with a supernatural move, the enemy pushes in again, and runs her nose along Claire’s neck and breathes in deeply. “Did I?” is the response before she bites down hard on Claire’s shoulder. 

_Jesus_ , Claire thinks and her body softens against her will, and she doesn’t fight it when the enemy begins to expertly tackle her belt, undo it, unzip her, and get her hand down fast and low. 

The enemy makes purchase and that’s when she chuckles, a deep sort of sound that resonates. “Oh, Claire,” she says, and her fingers loll about in the wetness she finds. “I dreamed about this, but not--” and she pulls her head back, as if savoring it. “This is better.”

And that’s when her fingers push hard against Claire’s sex, a demanding sort of pressure that then becomes an unstoppable rhythm. A crushing sensation, as Claire realizes how aroused she truly is. A fluttering in the walls of her sex begins, and Kaia’s juts her fingers harder and harder until Claire cries out, cries out the name of the woman she had begun to love. Cries out the name of the woman whose face this enemy shares. 

And the enemy immediately slides wet fingers deep inside Claire’s sex, a sharp kind of unexpected move. After scissoring there for a moment, stretching her a bit, the fingers begin to fuck in with a brutal pace. “You’re going to come for me again,” the enemy says. “Don’t fight it.” 

The words on her own lips are “No,” but Claire clings to her tightly, unable to do much else than gasp out and hear a ringing in her ears. Sense an overwhelming pull of desire each time those merciless fingers hit that sensitive spot, and with such perfect pressure. She’s collapsing in on herself, becoming this wanton creature being fucked into a wall. And as the darkest edges of her heart ignite, her eyes focus in on the enemy’s face, on Kaia’s face, and she lets go. 

Pleasure rips through her like lightning, filling the space around them and above and she’s shrieking into the air. Blinding light is all she can see, and yet her mouth finds Kaia’s lips and they kiss like the world is ending. The clash of teeth, the slide of tongues, the biting of lips, and the sucking sensation of mouth against mouth; not a fight for dominance, but one between equals. 

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” the enemy says, and her fingers tease Claire’s sensitive sex, making her squirm. “But you’d be more beautiful if my mouth was right--” and she fucks in slow, “--here” and Claire’s entire body flinches from the images flickering through her mind. That tongue against her skin, and Claire’s a live wire. Desire spins through her, buzzing through her blood. Her mouth says “No” and her enemy drags her down to the ground.

It takes some finagling but within minutes, Claire’s back arches as a tongue hardens against her clit, licking her there with a steady sort of rhythm. It’s too much, she thinks, too much-- and yet the enemy is learning her body now, learning her tells. She lingers when she could speed up her rhythm, intensify her pressure, and Claire finds herself in an agonizing ache; stuck in the moment before pleasure is unleashed. On the edge, she reaches down and tugs violently on her enemy’s hair; those sweet, familiar curls. “Please,” she begs and she can feel the enemy smile against her skin.

“I’m not done with you,” is the response, and the lazy lick of her tongue is followed by a gentle push of her fingers. 

Claire whimpers; unable to speak words, unable to think clearly. Unable to do anything but have a hyperfocus on the torturously exquisite build of desire in her sex. She’s unclear about the passage of time; has it been a few moments or has her mouth been at it for an hour. Nothing makes sense, nothing is right. It’s all wrong; it’s all deliciously wrong.

The enemy pulls away slightly to blow on her wet heat, a cooling air before she sucks down hard, her tongue fluttering in an excitable pace. This is it, Claire thinks before she’s gone in raging fire that lasts, and lasts; a consuming flame that exhausts her, finishes her, brings her to utter destruction. 

“When you were an angel--,” the enemy says, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, “--did you glow this much?” And she chuckles again. 

Punchdrunk, confused, and shattered, Claire gets up on her elbows, looks down at that familiar face. She feels wrecked, like a shell of a human girl. The enemy crawls up her body, and with frame against frame, she pushes in to press kisses against Claire’s mouth; let Claire taste herself before biting her lip so they both taste blood. 

There’s a hand, Claire’s hand, that moves towards the enemy’s waist and a vise like grip stops her. “I want--” Claire starts, and her vision is blurred with the thought of giving back, returning this barrage of strange intimacy. 

“I don’t care what you want,” the enemy says, with an emphasis on each word. And straightening, she lifts herself up off the ground and peers down at Claire; still laid out on the ground like some shameless thing. “Remember this,” the enemy says, “next time you want to kill me.” And she disappears into the night. 

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End file.
